My Masterpiece
by mpg
Summary: Even six months after their first encounter, Bella can't get Edward out of her mind. She wants him in her bedroom-anyway she can. AH/OOC/M for adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Beautiful Edward Challenge Anonymous Entry**

**Story Title:** My Masterpiece

**Penname: **mpg

**Summary:** Even six months after their first encounter, Bella can't get Edward out of her mind. She wants him in her bedroom-anyway she can. AH/OOC/M for adult themes

**Word count: **4,607

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I wish I owned Edward...I'd have him do all sorts of wicked things.

**Visit the other stories in this challenge: http:/ tinyurl . com / beautED**

**(add one more / before tiny, remove spaces and paste into a new window)**

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I made my way down the stairs into the darkened, smoke-filled room. I hoped no one would notice the bulky bag I carried with me. It wasn't typical attire for this type of establishment, but I needed it. With each step I took, my heart fluttered a little more. I said a silent prayer that

_he_ would be in his usual spot. I hoped so. I was counting on it in fact. I knew that if he wasn't at the bar at the bottom of the stairs I wouldn't be staying; not even for one drink to drown my sorrows. It would just be a waste of time. Especially when I could be at home working on my project-which was ultimately the reason I was back at the bar.

I tried to push the concern out of my mind; I knew he was going to be there. I had prepared well, going so far as to ring the bar to ensure he was on. I had been told that he was due in shortly. I had gathered up my supplies and packed them into my duffle bag. I probably could have done some more work on my project without going to the bar, but why do that when I could see him and maybe even mutter a few precious words to him?

I hit the bottom stair and my eyes immediately began searching. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw his familiar copper-coloured do at the end of the bar. I counted the stools along his section of the wooded counter. I had been here often enough to know that they were allocated a set number of stools each night. They were responsible for tending to their own patrons and earning their individual tips. I selected a seat on the outskirts of his area. Close enough that I would be served by him, but far enough away that I would be able to watch him without his knowledge.

I climbed onto the stool, letting my hair create a shield between us until I was settled. I surreptitiously slipped my sketchbook out from my bag and slid it onto my lap. I flicked it open to a new page-page thirty in my book dedicated solely to _him_. I laid my pencil on top and, once I was sure it wasn't able to be seen from his position behind the bar, attempted to catch his attention. Okay, so I was stalking him-but his chiselled features justified my actions.

Even after twenty-nine pages of sketches and a mural at home, his beauty blew me away and rendered me almost speechless. Under the blue lights running along the bar, his pale skin seemed to glow softly. As he wiped the counter, his full lips turned up into a slightly off-centre smile. One corner of his mouth pulled just a little higher up his cheeks than the other, but instead of making him look off balance, it made him more perfect. His eyes were a deep stormy-green, like the clouds in the sky holding the promise of hail. Their dark depths always seemed to hold tightly to secrets and teased of carnal delights. Whenever our eyes met-which wasn't often because mine would fall away whenever he glanced in my direction-his would hold me captive. I don't know that any female would be able to resist his charms if they were lucky enough to capture his attention. I could almost see the things he could do to me and there was no question of whether or not I would allow him access. I squirmed in my seat just thinking about his eyes, knowing all the while that they held nothing on his hands or on the long fingers extending from them.

One night, I had sat watching him cleaning glasses. I couldn't think of a time that I had witnessed anything more seductive in all my life. The way he pushed the tips of his fingers against the cloth at the bottom of the glass, pressing with just enough force to shift the dirt and stains without breaking anything. He stroked up and down the length of the glasses with great care-long, slow strokes-up then down, then up again. I may have moaned out loud when he started caressing the long, narrow necks of the champagne flutes, forcing his fingers gently inside the tight space.

Somehow, he had seen my tiny wave for attention and was in front of me almost instantly_. _"Hi," he said warmly, sending flames of red running along the lengths of my cheeks. I had never been able to talk to him without blushing.

"Hi," I muttered back, unable to infuse my voice with any volume. My eyes dropped to watch the hand he was using to support his weight as he leaned into the bar. I visually traced the muscles and sinews of his forearm as they twisted and entwined around each other. I thought about what it would feel like to run my tongue along those muscles.

"The usual?" he asked.

I nodded.

He pulled a glass down from the rack directly overhead. As he raised his arm, his shirt lifted and exposed his happy trail, causing my mouth to water and gave me the desireto dance and skip merrily along that path. He smirked at me as he set the glass down on the counter and set about making me a Fruit Tingle. Every week for the past six months I had taken my place in front of the bar-my makeshift altar to worship his beauty.

"Good?" he asked, nodding towards the drink and capturing me with his eyes.

Those damn eyes. Of everything on this perfect example of a man, it was his eyes that both fascinated and frustrated me the most. No matter how many times I attempted to draw them I just couldn't capture their perfection.

I fingered the straw, slowly drawing liquid into my throat as I peered at him, watching and waiting expectantly. I smiled shyly and nodded that it was perfect…just like him. I sighed at the thought.

He moved off to serve other customers, giving me an opportunity to start sketching roughly in my book. I was obsessed with getting my mural at home just right. I couldn't say exactly when I had become crazy, but I did recall my first experience with perfection.

* * *

Six months ago-the worst day of my life-I had started my day by falling over and twisting my ankle. By lunchtime, I had lost my job and then broke up with my boyfriend during dinner. I'd decided that the only cure for my hellacious hours was a stiff drink…or ten. By chance I had stumbled upon a little hole in the wall -or perhaps more appropriately hole in the floor-bar. Without realising that it would change my purpose in life, I hobbled down the stairs and stopped cold.

He had been working the front section of the bar that night. It felt like I had fallen to my death and was standing in front of St. Peter himself. His hair was a little shorter then, and he wore it closely cropped to his head. Over the months since, he progressively had less and less cut off the length; I preferred it just a little bit longer.

That first night, he had taken a moment to absorb my appearance and had a drink waiting for me by the time I had hobbled to the bar. He slid it in front of me, and I glanced nervously at it.

"On the house," he had said, before gifting me with a beaming smile.

My heart had stopped beating for a few seconds the first time I saw him smile. He had touched my hand lightly, causing me to hyperventilate, my lungs fluttered against my chest as rapidly as my renewed heartbeat.

I shook my head. "I can't." I gently slid the drink back toward him as all of my father's warnings about accepting drinks from men leapt to the forefront of my mind.

"I insist," he said, before smirking at me.

I hesitated.

He shrugged. "Well, if you _really_ don't want it..." he trailed off before bringing the straw to his lips. His tongue pressed forward and lapped the top of the straw. He closed his lips around it and sucked hard.

Tingles ran down my spine as I watched him drinking-all seemingly landing at the apex of my thighs. I shifted my weight slightly to create a little friction-trying to quell the sensation. Unfortunately, it meant I had put extra weight onto my twisted ankle, and I fell to the floor in a screaming heap.

He leapt over the bar to come to my aid. Leapt. Over. The. Freaking. Bar. He lifted me up effortlessly and gently placed me on a barstool, pushing the drink in front of me. This time I compliantly drank. It was without doubt the best thing to ever pass my lips. I could literally feel the fizz of the drink as it hit my tongue.

"What is that?" I asked, surprised at the intensity of my own voice.

He chuckled. "It's a Fruit Tingle. They were always my sister's go-to drink."

The only word I had heard was 'tingle', because he had leant into me as he'd spoken, allowing me the gift of his scent. He smelled...warm...and it made me feel all tingle-y.

After five Fruit Tingles, I had decided it was a damn shame he wasn't on canvas-someone as beautiful as him should be on canvas. That was when I came up with the idea that I should be the one to immortalise him.

I had picked up a napkin and stolen a pen from behind the bar, deciding there was no time like the present to start.

* * *

"Earth to Tingles." A rich voice pulled me back to the present.

_He_ was standing right above me. I had been so lost in my memory I hadn't noticed his approach. I quickly slid closer to the bar so that he couldn't see the sketches I had been working on. I blushed again, causing him to smile and me to blush redder still.

"Sorry," I muttered.

He shrugged. "It's okay. I live to be ignored by people unless they want something."

I gasped in horror. There was nothing about him that could or should ever be ignored. He leaned onto the bar, resting on his elbows.

I glanced around and noticed I was the only one in his section.

"Quiet night?" I asked softly.

"Closing time."

My face fell as I realised I had wasted precious moments daydreaming about our past.

"Oh shit, I'd better go," I stammered, pushing my book roughly into my bag, not even bothering to close it.

His hand reached out. "Wait!" he said quickly.

I turned back toward him, confused. He was breaking our regular routine. I would always come, have a few drinks, sketch him slyly, and leave at closing with a quick goodbye.

I glanced at the hand that was gently holding onto my arm.

"I was just wondering..." he started, "Wait... what I mean is..."

He looked up at me through his lashes. I would wait forever to know what he was going to say if only I could continue to stare at his eyes, framed by those thick black lashes. I wondered if there was any part of him that wasn't so perfect, but knew there couldn't possibly be. People like him were blessed all over; and I do mean _all_ over. My eyes dropped to the bar that was covering his lower half.

"Can I have your number?" he finished.

I blinked, confused.

"I'm not supposed to do this," he rambled. "If I wasn't already leaving, I would probably lose my job over it. There are strict 'fraternisation with customers' rules you see?"

I shook my head. I didn't see. I didn't understand. _He was leaving?_ I panicked. My masterpiece was still months-years-from being finished. _Wait... he wants my number._

He looked crestfallen. Like a kid at a candy store who had just been diagnosed as diabetic.

"I understand," he murmured.

I knew there was only one thing to do. I used every ounce of alcohol-infused courage I had and wrote my name and phone number on a napkin.

"Bella," he said, rolling my name around his mouth, his tongue caressing it carefully. "Beautiful." He murmured so quietly, I might have misheard him.

"I'm Edward," he said, extending his hand to greet me.

"It's lovely to meet you, Edward," I said. I knew his name from so many months spent frequenting the bar, but we had never been properly introduced. I managed to scrape one more act of bravery out of the booze coursing through my body. "I look forward to your call."

As I hit the stairs, I could have sworn I heard, "I look forward to calling", but when I turned around, he was already gone.

* * *

When I'd woken the next morning, I pulled my book from my bag-discarded by my front door when I'd arrived home on an Edward-asked-for-my-phone-number-induced high-before setting about making some changes to my mural.

I pulled back the curtain that rested across the north-facing wall, climbing over my bed in order to push along the material as it gathered between the bed head and the plasterboard. Behind the purple fabric hung my masterpiece. I had slowly pieced together the various sketches I had taken, drawing, erasing, painting and shading in turn. My goal was to have Edward in my bedroom-watching over me while I slept below. Creepy? Yes, but I couldn't help it. I was obsessed with having him close to me-any way I could.

As I worked, I tried not to glance at my mobile. It was hard-its silence was louder than a drum. It kept echoing the same words with its absolute stillness, _"he's not going to call...he's not going to call."_

I tested the new shade of green I had purchased the day before for Edward's eyes. It still wasn't quite right. I sighed, knowing nothing would ever be quite right. His eyeshade was unique to him.

Over time, I had gathered enough sketches to have a decent outline of him on my wall. It was nowhere near as attractive as the real thing, but somehow he was still enthralling-even immortalised as mediocre art.

I trailed my eyes over the drawing, and imagined him coming to life. I could see his hands moving the way they had at the bar. As I pictured him in my mind, I felt my own hands begin to wander. Starting at my face, tracing a line slowly across my cheek and down onto my chest. They pushed up my t-shirt, eager to find the warm skin beneath, languidly tracing my stomach. Watching my sketch of Edward, and seeing him so easily in my head, made it easy to pretend that it was his hands exploring my body.

I imagined his hands dipping into the cup of my bra, causing me to moan with desire. His fingers rolled my nipples, gently squeezing them before he lowered his mouth to caress them with his tongue.

I blew out a shaky breath as my hands continued to explore against the backdrop of my mind's sweet imaginings. I felt _his_ hands slide lower and lower, until they were brushing along my thighs, gently pushing my legs apart. Edward's not-quite-the-perfect-colour-yet eyes stared down at me approvingly as my fingers pushed away the soft cotton of my panties and brushed against my centre. They moved across my skin in long, unhurried strokes until my hips bucked against them.

I pushed softly against my entrance gently before slipping my fingers inside. I rocked my hips against my hand, staring at the lips of the Edward in my drawing. I imagined those lips, and the tongue they held captive, replacing my fingers. Licking, sucking, nibbling and finally…penetrating.

_Oh my God!_

I panted as my fantasies about his lips pushed me closer and closer to the edge. I pushed my fingers in further until I was right there. I was on _his_ bar while Edward worked his magic between my legs.

_Oh. My. Fucking. God!_

I touched my thumb to my clit to bring my release, all the while chanting the name of the sex god who could do this to me without even being in the room. His face; his cheeks; his perfectly chiselled jaw; his long thick eyelashes; his _long,_ _thick_... I clutched the sheet tightly between the fingers of my free hand, using the purchase gained to arch my back as I came undone.

I could have sworn mural-Edward smirked at me as I lost control and went hurtling into the oblivion he'd caused.

Just as my body began to spasm around my fingers in perfect, sweet, Edward-filled exhilaration, my mobile rang. I dropped my head and sighed at the sudden, and unwanted, interruption. Never one to leave a ringing phone unanswered, I rolled over and grabbed it with the hand that had held the sheets in a death-grip just moments earlier.

"Yes?" I snapped.

"Umm, Bella?" came a voice that sounded like ice cream dipped in honey and coated in chocolate; all cool, sweet and rich. I knew the owner immediately.

"Edward," I enthused. "Sorry... you caught me in the middle of something." I didn't think it was wise to elaborate that 'something' was pleasuring myself while fantasising about him and his strong fingers.

"I was wondering if you'd like to catch up this afternoon?" he asked, his voice dropping for a split second. I could hear he was nervous. The confident barkeeper-the man with the face that could launch a thousand orgasms-was nervous about asking _me_ out?

"Mmm-hmm," I responded, not allowing my lips to part out of the fear that a loud squealing fan-girl sound would erupt from me.

A relieved sigh came down the line. "Well... seeing as though you know where _Midnight Sun_ is, why don't we meet up there and find something to do from there? Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee?"

My heart dropped to my feet-an impressive feat considering I was still lying down-he wanted a coffee date. Everyone knew a coffee date wasn't a real date. It was a good excuse to leave if you didn't like the person. He mustn't have thought that much of me. I kicked myself for thinking that he could have held any amount of feeling for me. I mean...he was perfect, and I was...well I could hold my own, but I wasn't exactly going to win any modelling contracts anytime soon. I certainly would never inspire someone to draw a life-sized mural of me on their bedroom wall.

Mural-Edward looked down at me mockingly, while real-life Edward asked, "Bella, are you still there?"

_Shit._ I hadn't realised I had kept him hanging for so long. "Yeah," I answered quickly, silently pretending to ram the phone into my forehead a few times.

"Would it be better if I called you back?"

_Shit._ "No, now's perfect. Coffee's perfect. Everything sounds..."

"Perfect?" He chuckled.

"Yeah." I could feel the heat of my blush. _Great_. I wondered if a red glow was issuing from his end.

We talked awkwardly for another couple of minutes before agreeing on a time and hanging up.

* * *

I paced in front of _Midnight Sun_ certain Edward wasn't going to show. He was over fifteen minutes late and the only reason I was waiting at all was, well, because it was Edward.

I reached the end of my designated pacing strip-between the Braille pathway and the wooden bench-before flipping around quickly, only to run straight into the sex-god-in-waiting himself.

"Sorry, I kept you," he said, before bringing his hands around to present me with a bunch of flowers.

If I thought behind-the-bar-serving-me-drinks Edward was hot, he had nothing on offering-me-flowers-sweetly Edward.

"I don't know what they are called," he admitted. "But they were bright and sunny."

"They reminded me of you," he added quietly, flashing me a smile.

My heart pounded loudly and my hands shook as I grabbed the gerberas from him. Coffee with my muse didn't sound so bad after all. At least it would give me one more opportunity to commit some of the smaller details of him to memory.

He offered me his arm, and I linked mine through it. My heart thudded as I walked alongside him. I kept glancing sideways at him, sure that he might disappear or be revealed as a vision at any moment.

Coffee led into a movie. A movie transitioned into dinner. Dinner quickly progressed through to drinks at _Midnight Sun_. I wasn't ready to let him go, so drinks ended with me asking Edward back to my place. When he turned me down, my heart sank.

"Bella, I've had a great time today," he assured me. "I just don't want to ruin what-"

I cut him off with a kiss. His lips were full and gentle, as smooth and soft as I had expected them to be as they found their rhythm against mine. My hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer to me. My fingers found purchase against the velvet thickness, and my nails scratched lightly along his scalp causing him to moan.

"Please?" I asked again, hoping to come off sexy but afraid that I just sounded needy.

He nodded, pulling me back in for another kiss. I felt his tongue tentatively sneak forward into my mouth. I accepted it readily, sucking on it lightly before stroking it with my own. He tasted as good as he looked.

I wanted him. Needed him. I grabbed his hand and practically ran from the _Midnight Sun_.

My apartment was only a five minute walk from the bar, but it was the longest five minutes of my life. His fingers were laced with mine as we walked, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.

The conversation between us, which had been flowing steadily all through the afternoon and into the evening, had stopped. The air was still and the streets quiet. It was as if the night itself had stopped breathing in anticipation of what was to come. Edward not only inspired me, he inspired the entire world to pause as he passed.

Halfway home I was already picturing what Edward's babies would look like. A brood of little green-eyed children running riot and breaking hearts. I smiled at the image.

"You are so beautiful when you smile," he whispered.

I bumped him with my shoulder. "You're always beautiful," I murmured back.

He laughed. "Beautiful?" he asked. "Not manly or handsome?"

I turned to him, standing on tiptoes to look him in the eye. I clasped his face softly between my fingers. "You are those things as well..." I started, tracing his cheekbone softly with my thumb. "But yes, you are beautiful. There are women who would kill for these cheekbones."

He hummed as he leant into my touch.

He closed his eyes, and I traced one eyelid. "And these thick, luscious eyelashes. Models would murder people for those." I brought my lips up and pulled his head forward, planting a soft kiss on each eye.

His hands wrapped around my waist, his fingers finding a patch of skin at the base of my spine. I shivered at his touch, which seemed to rouse him. "How far is it to your place?" he asked breathlessly.

I bit my lip. "It's just up there." I pointed to my building. It was run down, but that meant it was affordable. Price was a big consideration when you only worked for minimum wage-even more so when you have no job and spent your days trying to perfect a mural of the one perfect example of a man you had met.

We covered the last of the distance swiftly. As soon as I had opened my door, we became a tangle of limbs and clothes. A silent agreement to continue had been made, and I knew there was no turning back. Internally, I was jumping for joy that I was finally getting my wish. Edward was going to enter my inner sanctum-and I wasn't referring to my bedroom.

By the time he pushed me onto the bed, only my bra and panties remained and I was already panting heavily.

"Are you sure, Bella?" he murmured against my skin, as he ran his hand up my side.

I nodded, sure that were I not beyond coherent words, I would have screamed, "Yes. Yes! YES!"

His hand crept slowly around my back as his mouth moved back onto mine. With two fingers, he snapped open the clasp of my bra and whipped it off, tossing it across the room.

He sighed as he glanced over my body. I fought every urge I had to cover myself under such intense scrutiny. Finally, he ducked his mouth down onto my nipple and sucked gently. The sensation was a thousand times more intense than what I had imagined just that morning.

I wriggled back on the bed, trying to escape, while pulling lightly on his head to hold him in place. My body cried out with confusion as I grew overwhelmed with emotion as Edward-sex-god, copper-haired, sweet, fuckable, Edward-lavished attention on my body.

His fingers dipped into my panties, brushing lightly against my core, and I cried out in pleasure. I gripped the sheets between my fingers to try to relieve some of the pressure building within my body.

"Oh, God!" I called out loudly as he pulled my panties down, tugging them gently off my legs.

He trailed small kisses across my stomach before dragging his tongue across my centre.

"Jesus Christ!"

I wriggled further back in the bed, utterly consumed with desire for him. When his tongue stilled momentarily, I opened my eyes. They met his and he smiled at me from between my thighs. Just the sight of him...there...was enough to have me clasping the intricate iron patterns on my headboard for purchase.

He blew his breath lightly across my clit, and I threw my head back. My fingers slid through the headboard and onto the soft material behind. He continued to work me with his lips and tongue, before adding a finger into the mix.

I pulled roughly on the material in my hands as I came hard. I cried out loud, almost drowning out the tearing sound that ripped through the room as I pulled my hands into me. Purple material cascaded down over me from above. I barely registered a thing except the way my body felt utterly relaxed-as if a lifetime of tension had been erased with just a few minutes work from this wonderful man.

That thought sent me wading through the material to ensure he was still real, that it wasn't just another fantasy of Edward while mural-Edward watched on.

As I shifted the last of material off me, I took in Edward's stunned features and confusion set it. I turned to follow his line of sight. Wall-Edward was staring down at the two of us from his position on my wall.

"Bella?" Edward asked in a tone that was equal parts confusion, excitement, and fear. "Why do you have a painting of me on your wall?"

_Oh. Shit._

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_A/N: This is a little one-shot I wrote for the Beautiful Edward contest. I hope you enjoy. As per my last contest entry...I won't say I won't extend this... however not right now._

_I hope you enjoy _

_and BTW it placed 2nd :) _


	2. Tingles

**Tingles**

*** This is an outtake written for Fandom Fights the Floods. With their approval, I am now free to post for your enjoyment ***

_Fandom: Twilight_

_Rating: M_

_Warning: This is just a little citrusy ;)_

_Summary: Tingles and her notebook filled his thoughts compulsively. _

_A/N: This is the EPOV of my "Beautiful Edward" contest entry entitled "My Masterpiece"._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Characters are all Stephenie Meyers' creations. I just enjoy twisting their stories._

_Smooches to CorrinaTFF for betaing this little baby for me & Gabbysway2 for pre-reading_

~ 0 ~

It was Thursday…that meant I would hopefully see Tingles. I tried not to make it a habit to know the comings and goings of customers, but sometimes it was too hard not to notice. Like the first time she had stumbled—and I do mean stumbled—into my father's club, _Midnight Sun._ It was impossible not to notice her; a perfect creation of warm brown eyes that blinked gently from a soft, pale face. Her hair fell like a river around her shoulders, curling loosely at the very ends. She looked so impossibly fragile, and yet an inner strength shone from within.

That first evening, I'd gone against everything my father had ever taught me—and against the policies of the club—and given her a free drink. From the moment she emerged from the staircase, she looked like she needed one. Her pretty face was drawn and tight, and I could see the stress practically rolling off her as she limped toward the bar painfully slowly.

I made her a Fruit Tingle, something easy to put together, and my sister Alice's go-to drink when she was having a bad day. Because of how many I had made, it was a cocktail I could put together with my eyes shut—which was important because my eyes refused to budge from the picture of perfection in front of me.

She stopped in front of me and rested her hands lightly on the bar. She stared at me blankly, as if she had lost all capacity for thought.

I wanted to ask what was causing such a beautiful girl so much stress, but I knew it went against the non-fraternisation policy my father insisted on. Our little bar was famous for having quiet, discreet bartenders who didn't ask questions, and I was already pressing the issue with the free drink.

"On the house," I offered with a smile. As I pushed it toward her, I took the opportunity to brush my fingers across her skin, curious as to whether it could possibly be anywhere near as smooth as it looked. It wasn't…it was smoother. I wondered if she felt the small jolt that jumped from my fingertip to her skin.

Something certainly roused her because she shook her head and slid the drink back toward me. "I can't."

"I insist," I said, amused by the way she backed away as if I were some crazy stalker.

She stopped but shook her head ever so slightly.

I couldn't believe she was turning down a free drink, but then I realised she was probably just being cautious, so I shrugged. "Well, if you _really_ don't want it..." I grabbed the glass and brought the straw to my mouth. I took a deep drink to show her that it was wasn't spiked or anything.

I don't know what happened next, but she was suddenly crying out in pain and falling to the floor. Instinct took over, and I knew I needed to get to her as quickly as I could. I put the glass down on the counter before pushing myself over the bar. I was lucky nothing smashed as my feet skimmed the tops of the bottles of booze by the post-mix machine.

I reached her in an instant and scooped her into my arms without thinking it through any further. I lifted her onto one of the barstools and took in her now even paler appearance. I wondered whether she was going to go into shock, so I pushed the drink toward her to encourage her to get some sugar into her.

She drank deeply. The sight of her lips surrounding the straw and her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked hard on it had immediate reactions on my body. I tried as hard as I could to turn away, but the sight was mesmerising.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

I laughed nervously; she was making me blissfully uncomfortable. "It's a Fruit Tingle. They were always my sister's go-to drink." Using our proximity to my benefit, I leaned into her a little to see whether she smelled as good as I imagined she would. She didn't…she smelled better.

I ensured she remained at my station, giving her as many damn fruit tingles as she wanted throughout the night. I had intended to throw caution—and the non-fraternisation policy—to the wind and ask her out, but before I had the chance to build up the courage, she had disappeared…and so had my favourite pen.

I was devastated when I'd realised she'd left, and I hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, or ask for her phone number. I was certain I would never see her again, and that thought was the most depressing one of my life.

To make matters worse, my father demanded a meeting with me after my shift. Apparently he'd been watching in the office when I'd done my bar gymnastics and said while he was happy I had helped out a customer in need, he hoped I would be a bit more careful and discreet in my future dealings. He'd lectured using the multi-visual aid of the security tapes of the event. As I watched her on screen, his voice faded out, and I became transfixed by her beauty , feeling a renewed sense of loss wash over me.

After promising to perform within company guidelines, I left my father's office with a sorrowful heart—and the original videotape of my beautiful girl. I had no idea what her name was, just the way she made me feel. My body sung for her, all the hairs on the back of my arm stood at attention—they definitely weren't the only things that were erect—and I felt like I was getting a series of mild, and pleasant, electric shocks. I had nicknamed her after that feeling; so from that day forth, she was Tingles.

Despite my fear that I would never see her again, Tingles returned the next Thursday, and every Thursday after that. She had returned on exactly twenty-nine different Thursdays, always finding a spot in the section I was tending. At first, I worked the front section and had naturally assumed she just liked that spot. But then, a few weeks later I was moved to the back—apparently my father was aware of my less than gentlemanly urges when it came to Tingles—and she dutifully took a seat on the last stool in my section.

It suited me perfectly to have her in that position. She was far enough away that I could concentrate for brief periods of time—long enough to serve the other customers—and she wouldn't notice me glancing surreptitiously in her direction, but close enough that she was still mine—or at least seated in my section.

Each Thursday for the past twenty-nine weeks, I had snuck into my father's office and stolen the security video of my section. I convinced myself that I'd taken the tapes purely because I wanted to see whether they would reveal any secrets about what she scribbled madly into her little book each week, but I knew it was more than that.

I knew because I had watched the videos repeatedly, and eventually edited them all into one collection of 'favourites'; her drinking deeply from her straw, her brow furrowed as she concentrated hard on her doodling, her shaking her hair out or running her fingers across her cheek. I had made the video with entirely innocent intentions, but I soon found myself using it to fuel my fantasies. No matter how much I tried to force it out of my head, the soft curves of her cleavage hidden by nothing more than a thin layer of material invaded my thoughts and her smile held my dreams captive.

After a few viewings, I began to use the video for more nefarious purposes. It had felt so wrong—but oh so right—the first time my hand had begun exploring my body while watching her lips do wicked things with her drinks.

My fingers had made light work of the fastenings on my jeans and pushed them down to my ankles along with my boxers. As the video moved onto her smiles, I clasped my erect cock tightly, working my fingers over the engorged head and down toward the base.

I imagined my name on her perfect pout as I slid my fingers up again. The video showed a blush that gently crept over her face, and I pictured that image beneath me in bed. I groaned and tightened my hand around myself, running from base to tip and back again, watching Tingles on the video. Her fingers began to caress a glass, running from rim to the base; I mimicked her movement pretending her fingers were tracing like that over my chest, teasing me playfully as she straddled my hips.

I tipped my head back and groaned as desire overtook me with the images of Tingles playing in my mind. I worked myself harder and faster before tipping my head forward and searching for her eyes on my computer. I met them just as I spilled my seed over my hand and thigh with a prolonged groan.

The pictures of Tingles repeatedly flashed across my mind as I cleaned myself up. I realised that I wasn't going to be able to get her out of my head until I was able to _take_ her…on a date at the very least. But I also knew I wouldn't be able to take her out as long as I worked at _Midnight Sun_. I made the decision then and there that I needed to find a new career.

"Dad," I greeted after he picked up his phone—I was too much of a coward to tell him face to face.

"Edward, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need to take some time off."

"Okay, I'll get the roster," he said smoothly. "Now, how much time do you need?"

"I mean, I need to take an extended amount of time off…at least a good few months…if I come back at all."

"Oh. I see." His voice was filled with surprise over my decision.

"I'll work my shift tonight though," I said. I wasn't going to miss that for the world, I just hoped Tingles would be true to form and turn up. Otherwise, my quitting would be pointless.

I prepared for work as usual, although maybe I took a little more time getting dressed up than normal. I knew my shift was going to be my first, last, and only chance to get her phone number—unless I became a crazy stalker. Although where Tingles was concerned, that wasn't necessarily a bad idea.

~ 0 ~

She took her usual seat, and I made her usual drink. I wanted to talk to her some more, but she pulled out her book and started scribbling away, effectively ending any potential conversation.

I had given her a second drink, and she had smiled politely before dipping her head right back down to her drawing.

Between her inattention and how unusually busy the bar had been, every opportunity I might have otherwise had during the night was squandered away. I felt my frustration growing until, at the very end of the shift, fate gave me the perfect moment. The bar was emptying rapidly, but Tingles was still lost in her scribbling.

"Earth to Tingles," I said, trying to get her attention.

She started and stared up at me with those beautiful doe-brown eyes. They widened and she looked slightly like a deer trapped in headlights. She quickly scooted closer to the bar, in what I was sure was supposed to be a stealth manoeuvre. Her beautiful blush crept slowly up her cheeks and down into her cleavage. I desperately wanted to know just how far down it went.

"Sorry," she muttered.

I shrugged. "It's okay. I live to be ignored by people unless they want something." _I would be ignored by you until the end of time if it meant being close to you._

She gasped quietly, and I had to stifle a chuckle. She was always so skittish, but instead of being annoying it somehow added to her charm. I leaned toward her, resting my elbows on the bar.

She glanced around surreptitiously. "Quiet night?" she asked.

I grinned, she really hadn't been paying attention—she'd been sitting in the seat for hours. "Closing time," I chuckled.

Her face fell suddenly, and she looked distraught. "Oh shit, I'd better go," she stammered, pushing everything in front of her into her bag.

I reached out grabbing her arm and clutching it lightly, terrified that she would rush out and my chance would be lost. "Wait!" I almost shouted.

She turned back toward me, confusion written on her features. She looked down and I followed her gaze to my hand where it connected with her arm.

I knew the polite thing would be to let go, but I couldn't. My brain refused to listen to the polite part anymore—especially after experiencing the tingles running through my fingers wherever our skin met.

"I was just wondering..." I started before realising I sounded like a tool. "Wait... what I mean is..." I glanced up at her, my voice leaving me completely once I saw the look on her face. It was trepidation mixed with elation. I had no idea what caused it, but I wanted to see it again and again. Her eyes held me captive until finally, she turned them down to look at something else and my voice returned.

"Can I have your number?" I blurted out before my voice failed again.

She blinked at me and I was completely stunned.

I knew I needed to explain myself if I wanted any chance of gaining my prize—her digits. "I'm not supposed to do this," I blathered. "If I wasn't already leaving, I would probably lose my job over it. There are strict 'fraternisation with customers' rules you see?"

She shook her head and my world ended. I wanted to laugh at myself for thinking that she could possibly be interested in me, but even that seemed too difficult a gesture for my aching heart. She looked panicked, as though I had scared her off…and now she probably thought I was crazy to boot.

"I understand," I murmured, dropping my hand from her arm—the delicious electricity turning into a nasty burn now that I knew I would never experience it again.

To my surprise, she pulled out a pen—that looked a lot like my old favourite pen—and wrote something down on a napkin. I glanced at it quickly and saw that it was a name and a phone number. I just hoped they were hers.

"Bella," I read, trying out what I hoped was her name for the first time, instantly recognising its meaning in Italian. "Beautiful," I murmured to myself. It seemed perfectly appropriate, so appropriate in fact, that it could have been a cruel joke. I took a chance and extended my hand toward her. "I'm Edward."

"It's lovely to meet you, Edward," she said my name in such a delicious fashion. I wanted to hear what it would sound like when she screamed it.

She smiled at me beautifully. "I look forward to your call."

I watched her ass as she moved toward the stairs. "I look forward to calling," I murmured quietly before turning to retrieve one last video tape.

~ 0 ~

I wanted to call her as soon as my shift was finished, but I knew 2 a.m. was an unreasonable time to call anyone-especially if that anyone was a loose acquaintance met through work that I hoped to date. I knew the 'money' thing to do was wait three days before calling her–I had seen swingers after all—but I couldn't wait that long. Her phone number was burning a hole in my nightstand, and I wasn't sure I could wait until I woke-even though I knew I had to. I put the napkin on top of my cell phone, ready to call as soon as I woke. I kept such odd hours that she was sure to be wide awake by then.

~ 0 ~

My alarm blared to life and my hand shot out instinctively to silence it. I banged on the nightstand a few times to find it, pushing everything out of the way to get it. I snoozed it quickly and settled in for a few moments of stolen sleep.

When it went off the second time, I reluctantly returned to the land of the living—or at least the awake. I'd been having such wonderful dreams about Tingles—Bella—and I wasn't willing to leave them yet. Until I realised that I had her number and could call her.

I reached over to rescue the napkin from my nightstand, but it wasn't there. My heart fell as I remembered the paper towel I had pushed out of the way to snooze the alarm on my phone. I searched the floor anxiously, turning over all the dirty clothes and bed sheets that had spilled onto the floor during the night. I couldn't find it anywhere. I couldn't believe that I had gone so far as to get her number, only to lose it before I called her. My panic grew and I wanted to kick my own ass for not immediately programming the number into my phone. I pulled my furniture away from the walls piece by piece until I found the little scrap of paper, which had managed to become wedged between the solid wood headboard and the wall.

I unfolded the little note and almost cried when I realised the writing had been smudged. The second to last number could have been a six or an eight, and the last number could have been a three, a five or possibly even another eight. That gave me six possible combinations to try. I sighed before pulling out my mobile and starting with the first possibility.

Finally, on my fourth attempt—just when I was thinking that maybe she had given me the wrong number after all—I found her. I knew instantly it was her when I heard her angelic voice.

"Yes?" she snapped.

"Umm, Bella?" I asked, worried I had caught her at a bad time, but that slipped immediately away when I heard her next word.

"Edward."

I almost groaned at the way she said my name. She somehow managed to infuse so much sex appeal into those two syllables.

"Sorry... you caught me in the middle of something." She sounded distracted, and I wondered whether she regretted giving me her number.

I decided to just come out with it. I took a deep breath and blurted, "I was wondering if you'd like to catch up this afternoon?"

"Mmm-hmm."

I was seriously beginning to think she didn't want to meet up with me after all. But I was relieved she hadn't denied me flat out. I blew out a small sigh of relief, and offered her an alternative just in case she really didn't want to date me. "Well...seeing as though you know where _Midnight Sun_ is, why don't we meet up there and find something to do from there? Maybe we can grab a cup of coffee?"

I waited for her response.

And waited.

And….waited.

"Bella, are you still there?"

"Yeah," she answered but sounded distracted, and then I heard a series of small bangs.

"Would it be better if I called you back?" I asked, seriously wondering what was going on at her house.

"No, now's perfect. Coffee's perfect. Everything sounds..."

"Perfect?" I ventured, hopeful.

I pinned down a time before hanging up and giving a little fist pump that I managed to get a date with Tingles—my own personal movie star.

With that thought, I added the latest video to my highlights reel. That blush creeping across her chest just made my heart melt. I got a little bit distracted with my editing and ended up running late for our little date. I showered, dressed, and left my house as quickly as I could, knowing there was absolutely no chance of making it to our designated meeting place on time.

I was walking past a florist when I saw some bright flowers in the front window. They instantly reminded me of Tingles—Bella—and I knew I needed to get some. I threw over my credit card and demanded a bouquet of them. I hoped they would be enough to win back her affection, if it wasn't already too late—if _I _wasn't.

~ 0 ~

As it turned out, I wasn't too late. Bella was waiting for me, and thankfully the flowers went over an absolute treat. Despite my concerns that Bella didn't really want to be out on a date with me, the afternoon quickly morphed into a long and interesting night together. We ended up at _Midnight Sun_ for a few drinks—my father cocking his eyebrow at me from the corner. I was fully aware how the situation appeared; I had no doubt he thought I was leaving purely so I could chase a little tail. Which was technically correct, but it was an over simplification of the truth. I wanted Bella—so badly—but I wasn't after her just for her looks; I wanted to crack the enigma of her mind as well. What was so important to her that she scribbled all night long each Thursday? Was she an artist or a writer, or something else entirely? And, just how far down did that scarlet blush travel?

After _Midnight Sun_ started to close, I led her upstairs and was just about to ask her for a repeat performance on another night when she invited me back to her place. My entire body leapt at the chance, my cock already straining against my pants, but my mind wanted her to be more than just a one night thing. She was the sort of girl one dated a few times first. At the risk of sounding too cliché, she was the kind of girl you took home to meet your mother.

She seemed utterly despondent when I told her no.

"Bella, I've had a great time today," I tried to assure her. "I just don't want to ruin what-"

She cut me off by pressing her lips to mine, silencing my mind's arguments as my body took complete control. Her lips were soft and smooth and melded with mine perfectly. She tasted like fruit tingles, and I knew I would never again be able to make the drink without becoming aroused. Her hands grasped at my hair, her nails gently trailing across my scalp. Every nerve-ending in my body sang at her touch and sounds escaped through our joined lips that I didn't think were possible.

"Please?" she begged her voice needful velvet and just sexy-as-fuck.

I was trapped and nodded before pulling her back to me. I needed to see if her lips tasted as good when caressed by my tongue. They didn't…they tasted better. My body ached for her desperately and my cock twitched as our tongues met for the first time.

She pulled away, and I almost sobbed for my loss, but then she grabbed my hand and practically ran away from _Midnight Sun_ in the opposite direction of my apartment.

As we half-ran, half-walked toward her place, I traced my thumb along the contour of her hand. I could spend a lifetime studying her silk skin.

I glanced down on her repeatedly, still uncertain that the whole evening hadn't been a figment of my imagination, dreamt up by my subconscious to taunt me with what I could never really have. We said very little as we made our way through the darkened streets, stopping occasionally to kiss and caress. I realised I was a fool for even trying to turn away from her—what if this one night was all I had? I would have regretted not following her for the rest of my life.

We climbed the staircase in her apartment with hands on bodies and lips on skin. As she unlocked her door, I trailed kisses along the back of her neck. I couldn't get enough of her, and she seemed equally as eager to take all I had to give.

Before I could comprehend exactly how swiftly the evening would progress, I was lowering her onto her bed in just a matching set of lacy pink lingerie. She panted heavily as she watched me through lust-filled eyes.

"Are you sure, Bella?" I murmured, as I climbed onto her bed and ran my hands along her smooth skin, watching a pink tinge spread across her body.

She nodded, and I could have wept with joy.

I lifted her gently off the bed with one hand and used the other to unfasten her bra. I kissed her hard. I couldn't fathom a way to get my fill of her. I tossed her bra across the room before sighing in intense pleasure as my eyes raked over her beautiful body. I had never coveted anything more than her. I wanted her to be mine. I dipped my head and took one of her breasts into my mouth, moaning with delight at her perfect taste.

I planned to worship every inch of her, because that's what goddesses deserved.

She pulled back from me, and at first I thought she was having second thoughts, but her fingers tugged my hair closer to her body. She wanted me and that knowledge gave me a sexual prowess I would never have imagined I could possess.

I lavished her body with kisses and touches, running my fingers and tongue across every piece of bare skin available. Finally, I could ignore the beacon of her arousal no more. My fingertips trailed from her bellybutton to the band on her panties. I ground my teeth together to keep myself from crying out with pleasure as my fingers brushed against her warmth and wetness. She didn't restrain the groan that rose in her throat, and the sound made me want to pleasure her until I had heard every noise in her repertoire—and then until I had heard them all again.

"Oh, God!" she cried out as I tugged her panties off.

I smiled against her skin, knowing that she was more than ready for anything I could dish out. I trailed soft wet kisses across her stomach before licking slowly across her centre. I hummed as the taste of her danced on my tongue. She was everything I could have imagined and yet so much more. I swirled my tongue once around her clit.

"Jesus Christ!" she cried, wriggling back up the bed—my mouth never leaving her as I followed her slow progression. She panted so heavily I wondered whether she was beginning to hyperventilate.

I stilled my tongue and looked up her body, greeted by the sight of two perfect mounds begging for some attention of their own. The moment was so perfect that I couldn't help but smile when she raised her head and looked down at me. I chuckled softly as she threw her head back, grasping her headboard and mewling slightly..

I turned my attention back to her centre, running my tongue across her once more. I wanted to see her come undone for me—because of me—and I wanted to feel her. I pushed a finger deep inside her while kissing her clit fiercely with my tongue and lips. I was rewarded moments later with a loud cry, almost a scream, of pure pleasure. I felt her clench around my finger and kissed her through her orgasm. I was so entranced with the sounds and sensations of her that I barely noticed the cascade of material falling around me and over Bella. I wondered where the material had come from, quickly running through my memory. I recalled a large purple curtain behind her bed that I hadn't paid too much attention to because, well let's face it, who gives a shit about a curtain when a goddess is almost naked right in front of you.

I looked up at the spot the material had once covered, wondering whether there was a window or perhaps an unsightly mark on the wall. Instead I saw me. My eyes, my hands, my face. _Me._ Staring down at me from the wall. I blinked, uncomprehending.

My eyes flicked from _me_ to Bella and back again. I didn't know where to start, so I asked the only question that arose to my lips. "Bella? Why do you have a painting of me on your wall?"

My eyes fell back to Bella, and she had that 'deer in headlights' look on her face again. I was stunned. Why? And why _me_? I turned back to the painting on the wall, and realised it was actually a damn fine likeness; not exactly like looking into a mirror, but it was clearly _me_.

My eyes darted between Bella and _me _again,and I realised it had been a few minutes since she'd said anything. I looked back at Bella once more, but this time I really _looked_ at her and found out exactly how far the blush extended down her body.

"Oh my God," she whispered, humiliation burned into every syllable. She clutched the curtain tightly around herself as if trying to use it as a cloak of invisibility or something. She looked like she was close to tears, and all I wanted to do was comfort her—and laugh—and cry—and run—and hug her—and scream at her. I was still so stunned, I couldn't work out exactly _what_ to do.

I sat on the bed, staring between the painting and Bella again and again. My mouth gaped open and shut, no words would escape me.

Bella moved around the room quickly, still burning red and issuing a near constant stream of profanities. I didn't realise what she was doing until she threw a handful of clothes at me.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, before turning away.

I pulled on my clothes quickly, my brain still not functioning correctly. It's not like it was an everyday occurrence to see my face staring down at me from a girl's bedroom wall, especially not a girl whom I had admired from a safe distance for over six months. I wasn't sure whether to run with fear or grab her and hold tight, knowing that she was obviously as crazy about me as I was about her.

The decision was swiftly taken out of my control, because the instant I was dressed, her hands pushed me gently, but forcefully, toward the door. I was in the hallway with the cool painted wood of her door pressed firmly against my nose before I fully realised what was happening.

I banged on it. "Bella!"

There was no response.

"Bella?" I banged on it again. Still no sounds issued from within.

I realised that I had just been thrown out by an obsessed, crazy, kooky, but absolutely fucking hot girl. I turned and leaned on her door for support while I tried to wrap my head around it. On the one hand, she had never appeared dangerous or crazy in the bar and even on our date she never did anything to indicate that she was crazily obsessed—she didn't know where I lived and had never waited outside to meet me in a darkened alley. But that mural wasn't an overnight thing. It had numerous pencil lines, partly erased and painted over. The eyes had at least five different shades of green dotted around them. It had been painstakingly agonized over. Clearly she had been trying to get the details just right and that demonstrated a certain level of obsession which I wasn't sure I was able to handle…except I had done the same thing.

After all, wasn't my video montage of Bella highlights exactly the same thing? Wasn't that an example of how her beauty had entranced me? Even as I closed my eyes, I could see parts of the highlights reel. I could see her lips pursing around her straw—and could imagine them doing the same thing around certain parts of myself. I knew the travelling distance of her blush, and wanted to see it pass across her skin with passion and lust again, not embarrassment. But I _did _want to see it again, which made my decision about what to do next obvious.

I left.

I practically ran to my house.

I was gasping for breath when I got there, but I knew it was quicker than waiting for a taxi so late at night. I charged straight through the rooms until I came to my study. I booted up my computer, tapping my fingers on the desk impatiently while I waited.

I found the file I wanted and burned it to a disc. I waited as the progress metre travelled ever so slowly from one side to the other. I hadn't realised the file was getting so big. The instant the disc was finished, I ejected it and slipped it into a protective casing and then ran from my house back into the cool night.

My lungs were on fire when I arrived at Bella's—I'd almost completely lost my breath around halfway back. I knocked quietly on her door, not wanting to wake her neighbours at such a ridiculous hour. There was every chance that she had gone back to bed or left entirely, but I pinned my hopes on the fact that she was mortally embarrassed and unable to sleep. When there was no response to my first knock, I knocked again, a little louder.

"Bella…it's me," I whispered against the door.

I was greeted by silence.

I placed my hand on the wood, hoping she was on the other side. "Tingles? Please!" I said a little louder.

"Go away!" came a muffled sob from within.

"No."

"Please? Just go away…" she sobbed a little louder.

"Not until you have seen what I want to show you," I demanded.

"What?" her voice was a little closer to the door.

"I have something that…that I think you should see." My heart was clenched into a tight fist at the thought of what I was doing. I was about to show her a whole lot more than I had ever planned to.

The door opened, but a chain was latched so I couldn't see her. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and stuck the DVD through her door. I felt that tug that indicated she had it and slipped my fingers back out to safety.

"I'm going to go again now," I said. "But please, promise me you'll watch that."

I heard a mumbled acceptance through the door.

Although I'd said I was leaving, I honestly couldn't tear myself away from her door. I had just handed over a piece of myself. But so much more than that, I had just put my father's club on the line. If she were so inclined, she would no doubt be able to take it to the police who might be interested in security footage being stolen and used in such a way. At the very least, she could leak the video to a newspaper which could quickly ruin _Midnight Sun's_ discreet reputation.

I rested my hand on her door, imagining I could feel her through it. _Please understand,_ I thought, even though I wasn't sure _I _understood. I sighed and then settled in for a long wait against her door.

~ 0 ~

Tingles invaded my dreams, the taste of her as I kissed her tenderly, the feel of her hair brushing against my bare skin and the red tinge of her skin as she'd blushed from head to…

My world fell in on me.

One second Tingles had been assaulting my every sense, and the next second I was on the floor looking straight up at her. My head fell between her feet and she screamed slightly in surprise. In my disorientation at being woken so harshly, I realised she had very shapely calves and great ankles. I wasn't sure how those details had escaped me before, probably because I'd been so fascinated with her top half.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, bending down to help me up.

I scrunched my eyes and thought back to the previous night. What a night it had been! I sat up and asked the most burning question. "Did you watch it?"

She looked at me and then nodded. "It was me." Her eyes dropped from my eyes to my lips. "_Why_ was it me?"

I raised my hand to cup her cheek. "I've been crazy about you since you first fell over in the bar."

Her eyes snapped back to mine. "Oh."

The little 'o' shape her mouth had formed was just perfect. I longed to kiss it, but I wasn't sure where we stood. "So, I guess we are both a little obsessed?" I asked, trying to bring up the mural but without making her run for the hills.

She bit her lip and blushed as she looked toward her bedroom door. "I guess so. You know, I just wanted you in my bedroom…anyway I could."

I smirked at her. "You know, all you had to do was ask."

She grinned. "Edward…would you like to come into my room?"

"Tingles, I would love to."

~ 0 ~

When we finally told our family of our unorthodox beginning, my father had been so impressed he'd asked to see a sample of Bella's work. She showed him her mural—which she'd since completed after having her model at hand whenever she desired. On the spot, he had commissioned her to redesign the walls of _Midnight Sun_.

I took my old job back—just so I could watch her work.

~ 0 ~

**A/N:- I hope you enjoyed & his reaction was everything you hoped for ;) I'd love to hear what you thought.**


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